Friday night was the huge international soccer game between Colombia and Chile and I have never seen anything like it in my entire life.
EVERYONE was watching this game. And I mean everyone in the entire country, everywhere. Leading up to the game you could hear all the pregame programming pouring out of every restaurant, bar and shop. People were selling yellow and white Colombian jerseys on every street corner-- standing from a distance looking at groups of people walking, they looked like hordes of bumblebees with all the yellow, with occasional freckles of white.
Seriously, why isn't soccer a big deal in the US? I will never understand that. The biggest, most popular, most widely played and followed sport in the entire world..... is not a big deal in the US.
I watched the game in a small bar with lots of long tables shoved together. The scene was made so much more intense because the bar was small and dark, which meant the projection of the game was all the more vivid, and that every time something happened, good or bad, I was almost oppressively surrounded by the reaction.
You ever have those moments when you're just struck suddenly by how lucky you are or how beautiful life is?
It's when you're just living, having a great time, fully immersed in what's happening, and then from out of nowhere, it's like your mind takes a step outside your body and gives it some perspective. Like, let me just put this in context for a second.
I have one of those moments when I am sitting in this small, unimpressive bar in Bogota, Colombia. I am wearing a yellow Colombian football (yes, I am calling it football, not soccer. That's what it should be.) jersey in a room surrounded by happy, expressive Colombian people, all of whom are drinking Club Colombia, Poker, and Aguardiente. I'm surrounded by Spanish everywhere. Football, my favorite sport since forever, is on the screen, and it actually matters (unlike in the US). The game has come to a turning point and the energy is incredible. The whole room is screaming SI SE PUEDE! (Yes we can!) And I'm just sitting there blissed out, grateful for everything that has brought me to this moment, right here.
At the end of the first half, Chile is winning 3-0. In the second half, Colombia CATCHES UP. ALL THREE POINTS. The game goes into overtime and no one scores but it doesn't matter because either way COLOMBIA IS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP.
Colombia. Is going. To the World Cup.
There is something so, so incredible about an entire nation celebrating together. In the US, major sports competitions (that everyone there follows and talks about) are between cities. So we don't have the unity of the whole country rooting for the same thing...or celebrating its success if it happens.
I was in New Orleans this year for both Mardi Gras and the Superbowl, and the amount of celebrating that went on Friday night trumps them both. When I left the bar, I ran towards a massive group of raucous people and felt something whomp my face. Stunned, I was blinking through a mass of white powder. I was absolutely covered in flour. Insane fans were running around with bags of flour, throwing it everywhere, flinging it in people's faces and dumping it all over their clothes. They had aerosol spray cans and were spraying the foam wildly everywhere. Big blow-up swords were suddenly in everyone's hands, mine included, out of nowhere. Groups of people were jumping and screaming in unison, some cheers I understood and some I didn't, one of them being OLE, OLEEEE, OLEEE, OLEOLEOLE. Every car that passed by in the street was honking.
I got on a bus and a homeless man held out a cup to a boy, asking for change, and the boy poured Aguardiente into it. The bus roared with laughter and the man chugged it all and then made a speech about how much he loved his country. Everyone on the bus sang chant after chant after chant and passed the Aguardiente around to everyone.
I got off the bus and was met with people SWARMING the streets. Like, swarming. People with faces painted, covered in flour and goop, were moshing in the street, still screaming and chanting and blowing hand horns. The cars were blowing real horns, as the masses of people had intentionally stopped traffic. In fact, they had not only held up traffic, but were climbing on the busses and leading chants from the top.
People. Please, at some point in your life, experience something like this.
(Photos and videos pending.)
EVERYONE was watching this game. And I mean everyone in the entire country, everywhere. Leading up to the game you could hear all the pregame programming pouring out of every restaurant, bar and shop. People were selling yellow and white Colombian jerseys on every street corner-- standing from a distance looking at groups of people walking, they looked like hordes of bumblebees with all the yellow, with occasional freckles of white.
Seriously, why isn't soccer a big deal in the US? I will never understand that. The biggest, most popular, most widely played and followed sport in the entire world..... is not a big deal in the US.
I watched the game in a small bar with lots of long tables shoved together. The scene was made so much more intense because the bar was small and dark, which meant the projection of the game was all the more vivid, and that every time something happened, good or bad, I was almost oppressively surrounded by the reaction.
You ever have those moments when you're just struck suddenly by how lucky you are or how beautiful life is?
It's when you're just living, having a great time, fully immersed in what's happening, and then from out of nowhere, it's like your mind takes a step outside your body and gives it some perspective. Like, let me just put this in context for a second.
I have one of those moments when I am sitting in this small, unimpressive bar in Bogota, Colombia. I am wearing a yellow Colombian football (yes, I am calling it football, not soccer. That's what it should be.) jersey in a room surrounded by happy, expressive Colombian people, all of whom are drinking Club Colombia, Poker, and Aguardiente. I'm surrounded by Spanish everywhere. Football, my favorite sport since forever, is on the screen, and it actually matters (unlike in the US). The game has come to a turning point and the energy is incredible. The whole room is screaming SI SE PUEDE! (Yes we can!) And I'm just sitting there blissed out, grateful for everything that has brought me to this moment, right here.
At the end of the first half, Chile is winning 3-0. In the second half, Colombia CATCHES UP. ALL THREE POINTS. The game goes into overtime and no one scores but it doesn't matter because either way COLOMBIA IS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP.
Colombia. Is going. To the World Cup.
There is something so, so incredible about an entire nation celebrating together. In the US, major sports competitions (that everyone there follows and talks about) are between cities. So we don't have the unity of the whole country rooting for the same thing...or celebrating its success if it happens.
I was in New Orleans this year for both Mardi Gras and the Superbowl, and the amount of celebrating that went on Friday night trumps them both. When I left the bar, I ran towards a massive group of raucous people and felt something whomp my face. Stunned, I was blinking through a mass of white powder. I was absolutely covered in flour. Insane fans were running around with bags of flour, throwing it everywhere, flinging it in people's faces and dumping it all over their clothes. They had aerosol spray cans and were spraying the foam wildly everywhere. Big blow-up swords were suddenly in everyone's hands, mine included, out of nowhere. Groups of people were jumping and screaming in unison, some cheers I understood and some I didn't, one of them being OLE, OLEEEE, OLEEE, OLEOLEOLE. Every car that passed by in the street was honking.
I got on a bus and a homeless man held out a cup to a boy, asking for change, and the boy poured Aguardiente into it. The bus roared with laughter and the man chugged it all and then made a speech about how much he loved his country. Everyone on the bus sang chant after chant after chant and passed the Aguardiente around to everyone.
I got off the bus and was met with people SWARMING the streets. Like, swarming. People with faces painted, covered in flour and goop, were moshing in the street, still screaming and chanting and blowing hand horns. The cars were blowing real horns, as the masses of people had intentionally stopped traffic. In fact, they had not only held up traffic, but were climbing on the busses and leading chants from the top.
People. Please, at some point in your life, experience something like this.
(Photos and videos pending.)
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